This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “My husband knows all. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation.
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